Cato's Revenge
by KamlesWarren
Summary: An alternate ending to the Hunger Games.  Cato get's his revenge, but the odds weren't in his favor.  Unfortunately, neither were Katniss's. Katniss/Finnick Katniss/Cinna Katniss/Gale Katniss/Haymitch, and others.
1. My way

**Alright, so.. I just broke down and I had to write this, the idea popped into my head. I just wrote this tonight, and it has not been beta read or edited, because I was anxious to post it. Any mistakes will be corrected later. It will not be a one-shot. The themes may be a bit dark, this is definitely not for those of weaker nature. **

**Throughout the story I will post warning of the chapter's contents: This chapter does not have anything that necessarily needs a warning other than a hint at adult themes, and a 'bad' work here or there. Other chapters, though, including the next chapter will be of the more mature rating. Lemons/torture/death/ect...**

**Disclaimer: I do not have any rights to the Hunger Games series, those are left to Ms. Collins. On the other hand, actions, words, and own personal writings are all mine. No copyright intended. **

**I cannot be expected to update soon, I do hope to actually complete this story, for once. And I will try, but I do not know, yet, if I will succeed. **

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><p>Cato's head whipped toward the sky as he heard the cannon fire. There were only four of them alive, the pathetic lovers, the sly girl, and him. Whose life end did this fire signal? Maybe the sly one eluded them, killed one of them off, maybe Peeta, but he'd probably have heard another cannon by now if that was the case, the girl wouldn't let her partner's death go unavenged, Cato knew the feeling.<p>

It could also be Peeta's cannon; it was a miracle he'd made even made it this long. Nevertheless, he knew where he cut the boy, how deep. No way would he live after that, if not from bleeding to death, at least infection. Right?

He didn't really care who was dead, as long as it wasn't the fire girl, he craved the joy of killing her. Cato and Katniss one on one, no interferences. Except this time, there wouldn't be any hives, or trees. He'd be the one in control, and she would be at his mercy. Ever since the girl had gotten that '11', he had been planning. A stupid skinny girl, spinning around in dresses, from District 12, outscore him, it was unheard of, and that infuriated him. He tortured himself about it, constantly on his mind, how in Panem had this girl gotten that '11'? She probably slept with Seneca Crane himself, the whore. He didn't have a clue, not until their food supply was destroyed at least. When they were scrimmaging through the burned remains, he found an arrow head, that had survived, and then he knew. It was the girl, he could feel it had been her.

His hatred of Katniss grew even more prominent after the incident. She outscored him, tricked him, got his partner killed, but now it was his turn, he would kill her lover, and he would kill her, his way. If Peeta's dead, she might even give herself up from grief, submit to him. If not, then he'd have to force her. Either way, she **would** face his tortures. He smiled the idea of her begging him to release her form the pain, from life, undoubtedly turned him on.

"Bitch better have not gotten herself killed." He whispered to no one, and everyone. He had such plans for the two of them, it would piss him of if he couldn't put them to use.

The hover craft appeared next, a claw springing out, and catching the body. He was too far to tell the identity, but it was female. He held his breath, but as the sun glinted on the body, the long hair flashed red, and he blew out in relief. The girl on fire was still his.

And Peeta was still alive, and apparently on the move. How did that happen? He should be on his death bed. It had to have something to do with the feast, that tiny bag. Did Katniss stitch his leg up, needle and thread?

If he went now, they might be expecting it. But if he waited, they might be tracking him now. He didn't doubt that he could take them both, but it would be a hell of a lot harder to do so, if lover boy was on his feet.

In the end, he decided to wait for them to come to him. It seemed likely that they would head for the lake, or the gamemakers would force them to the lake, it had the best view for the final fight, the capitol likes blood, and pain, and that's what he would give them. Until then, he would relax, eat his last remaining dried fruit, and beef, and sip water from his jug, maybe even take a nap. Katniss's death would be one of prolongation, he would make sure of it, but the more energy and stamina he had, the more fun it will be.

There were only the three of them left, and two of them were already dead in Cato's eyes. That night when District 5's female tribute flashed in the sky, he could already taste his inevitable victory. He was dying to meet up with his good ole' friends from District 12, again.

c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c

Immediately after he woke, he started off toward the lake, obviously he'd been right, because along the way he found that the usual creeks were all dried, he was thirsty, but it wasn't troublesome. Everything he had with him, excluding a sword and multiple knives, he left behind, he wouldn't need it anymore after today. He'd be going home, a champion, a survivor, a victor. That realization had him grinning.

They didn't have a chance against him, not with his strength, weapons, and full body armor. Katniss may have her little bow, but she has hardly a match for him.

Cato walked, excitedly, not caring he could be heard from a mile away, it didn't matter anymore, he was on his way to winning. Some might call him cocky, but it wasn't cockiness, it was confidence, assurance. No one could stop him now.

Then he saw them, the eyes. Deep green eyes, a flash of dark hair. Clove.

His breathing stopped. He wasn't that thirsty was he? Was he already having hallucinations, Clove was dead, he heard he canon after Thresh bashed her upside the head, he killed Thresh himself, he saw Clove in the sky. She was gone. This was either a hallucination, or a sick show from the gamemakers. When he heard the growls, saw the malevolence in the green eyes, and felt the presence of more, he ran and prayed for the former option.

The armor slowed him down some, but he didn't have time to throw it off, he was miles from the lake, he had to keep running. He was already thirsty, and losing breath, he heart was in tachycardia. But when you were running for your life, these seemed like minor things. They were fast behind him, so close, there was no way he could out run them, yet it was as if they weren't really trying to kill him, just trying to get him someplace. The capitol must have gotten bored, and this was the gamemaker's way of saying 'You were going too slow', Still, it didn't help his terror.

He was relieved when he reached the lake, surly the beast would back off now. They didn't. So he ran faster, he had a plan, maybe he wouldn't get to kill Katniss himself, but he'd be alive at least. She was there, with lover boy. Her bow pointed to his heart, as he sprinted toward them, he heard the cling as it bounced off of him to the ground, her face was livid with fear, he would have laughed in any other situation. Pushing past her, she followed his lead.

He had barely climbed the cornucopia, when she reached it, but she didn't join, she had realized that she'd left behind her ally, and stopped. He yelled something at her, but he couldn't hear, he was too high up, and heard nothing but the close growls of the mutts. It was probably something along the lines of: 'Save yourself' or 'I love you'. Mushy crap. Whatever it was he said, she took off after him, and soon enough they were both back at the base, fortunately, the mutts were close. Katniss climbed first, Peeta right beneath her. She was inside, reaching her hand down reaching for his, they connected, and she started pulling him inside. When her face shined with relief, he stomped my foot on top of their enclosed hands. The outcome was all that he had expected, she let go, and lover boy slid down, fumbling for a grip. She didn't have time to react. Cato laughed as he fell, screaming her name, the agony on her face.

Within no time, she rearmed herself, an arrow pointed at his head. She was quick, yes. But he was strong. He whipped his hand out, and snapped her wrist, with a grunt of pain, the arrow fell to the floor. Her arms were pulled behind her back, and he sat on her legs, she would watch him die. She sat there, limbs in awkward positions, whimpering, as the mutts tore him apart. Claws peeled at the skin, teeth ripped. He screamed, and screamed, until his throat was so mutilated, he couldn't do anymore than moan. They had dragged him off, to the edge of the water. But you could still hear him. The canon didn't sound until half an hour later, the mutts took their time with him. He grimaced, that could have been him. He let her stand, but blocked the opening of the cornucopia from her, couldn't let her kill herself, now.

"Just kill me." he grinned. He had no intentions of doing that, not yet at least.

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><p><strong>Please, please review. A review is the only criticism I will receive. Note on mistakes, likes, dislikes, and your opinion. Without your help, I cannot continue this story. I need to know other's thoughts, to know it's not terrible, and that I'm not simply making a fool of myself by posting it.<strong>

**Also, like I said.. This has not been beta read yet, because I was excited to post it. I will send it to my betareader, LauraBethLovesJesus, shortly, and have her correct any mistakes.**

**Thank you, Kamery.**


	2. Used

**Has not beedn beta read, simply because my beta-reader is asleep, and I don't feel like waiting. ****I'm rather impatient. So, anyways, I'll have her edit it later. **

**Also, sorry for the wait. My writing spurs come randomly once or twice a month, and then I spend a whole day writing, like today.**

**Enjoy-**

**Warning; rape/torture/ect**

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><p>Katniss blinked back tears; the loss of her fellow District 12 tribute, and her broken wrist that, whenever shifted, flashed red hot in pain, was almost unbearable. She told herself that her pain didn't matter, she was going to be dead soon, anyways.. Just like Peeta, but even with this in mind the pain – both physical and emotional, were undeniable.<p>

The sicko was enjoying himself, finally getting the chance he had been waiting for, the chance to kill Katniss the way he wanted. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction to know that he was hurting her, but she couldn't help but scream out whenever Cato's grip tightened around the cracked bones of her useless left hand.

His face was inches from Katniss's, and the smell evading his mouth was raunchy enough to make her gag. You would imagine that after years of eating Greasy Sae's concoction's, and spending a month in an arena without soap, and toothpaste you would be used to rotten smells, apparently not. Cato's breath was like a smack in the face, covering her in a blanket of thick smelly fog, stealing the air from her lungs. Katniss turned her face away from his, but strong fingers grabbed at her chin roughly forcing her to look at him, and endure the smell of decayed flesh.

She breathed as little as possible through her nose, trying to keep from yelling out as his previous two hand grip, lessened to a tighter one hand around both of her wrist, inevitably crushing the fragments farther. She failed pathetically, and grimaced at the thrilled smile on her captor's face.

Katniss knew she could fight back, but there really wasn't a point. Even if she got her bow back, somehow, her internally mutilated wrist would prevent her from notching it, let alone shooting it. Cato was massive; at least ten times her size, there wasn't a chance in hell she could take him down. And even if she managed to kill him, she would go home a different person; a killer, a betrayer. Everyone back home would hate her for letting Peeta die; the districts would want her head on a pole for their loved one's death.

She had never been afraid of death, at least not in the sense of being dead. But dying was different, dying was painful, and frightening; it was that last ragged breath that set fire to your lungs, it was the final compression of your heart that felt like someone was squeezing it in their hand. Dying required a how, death was just dead. No way was Cato going to let Katniss go quickly, and that terrified her. She was drenched in layers of sweat, despite the cool air.

"Just get it over with." She pleaded with him. His eyebrows creased, and his lips pursed; it was a look of mock concern.

"But I've only just started." With unusual care he sat her down against the wall of the cornucopia. "Why don't we get a little more comfortable? You look hot." , he claimed reaching into his coat bringing out a silver, sharp knife, as long as her forearm.

She froze, as he brought the knife down to her chest. 'Please let it be quick.' She prayed, hearing a rip. She was surprised that she didn't feel anything, nothing at all. Was this was it felt like to die?

A sudden cool breeze flashed on her chest , making her realize It wasn't her flesh he had ripped through, it was her shirt. What the.. Did he wish to torture her through humiliation, strip her naked for the whole of Panem to see? It was cold, but with each item of clothing he removed from her body, her skin felt hotter. She hissed quietly when Cato's knife slipped slicing a thin gash into the side of her thigh.

"Sorry." He said, but his face was amused.

When she was completely naked, utterly vulnerable, she couldn't hold back the tears. She wanted death to come so badly, but at the same time she was afraid for it to happen.

"Peeta" , she whispered, as if by some miracle her dead district partner would save her.

Cato's eye's narrowed dangerously at her. He spat viciously, "Not your lover boy, I'm afraid." His hands snatched out, grabbed Katniss's knees, and dug his finger nails into her skin, forcing them apart.

Katniss realized his intentions; she saw the evil hunger in his eyes. So she fought against him, but her thrashing was no match for his weight as he held her down, and straddled her bare body, forcing her knees back opens wide.

He eyed between her legs, carefully, and grunted. "You're not even wet for me, bitch. The least you could have done was get a little slick. But no worries, there are other means of juicing you up." Cato reached out to her opening, fingering her clitoris, causing her hips to twitch. Katniss averted her gaze to the ceiling, ashamed at the motion. She bit her tongue, to keep from making any noise. When he stopped, she peered at him, hoping that was the end, that he had gotten bored of her, and would just kill her now.

Cato shook his head at her, "No peeking."

He was right; dying would be easier if she didn't have to see it coming. And then a pain, so un-despicably mind frying, tore through her body, spreading through every nerve in her body flowing from between her legs. Her body convulsed, eyes rolled back into her head, throat strained from the intensity of her scream. The object inside her, was beautifully made, a knife with hundreds of sharp teeth ripping, and slicing through her soft inner flesh, as its owner twisted and pumped it inside her. Her vision was pure white hot fire. She weakly pushed herself back, with her hands, as if she could get away from the pain. And the agony in her crushed wrist was nothing compared to that of her shredded private.

When the knife was gone, she hardly noticed; because the aftermath was just as bad. Even after her vision was clear, and she could breathe again, her awful guttural moans never subsided.

She watched, helplessly, as Cato slid his trousers down slightly exposing his robust penis, which to Katniss's horror was as vigorous as the rest of him. She had seen this part of the male before, on many of her mother's patients, and once her fathers, when she caught her parents in a moment of passion. They proceeded to set Katniss down, and explain that this is something that adults do to express their love for one another. But this, right now, this was not out of love, and Cato was sure not like any of the other men she had seen.

Cato pushed himself inside of her, and she couldn't help but release a current of screams.

"You like this don't you, whore, lubricated with your own blood." Katniss couldn't have answered even if she wanted to; her mouth was once again preoccupied with spouting about meaningless cries.

"Scream for me, bitch, yell, cry, beg me for a release, you slut. Show me how you got that '11'."

Cato genuinely seemed to be relishing this, and Katniss couldn't help but take notice of how similar Cato's flesh pounding into her was to him fucking her with the cold steel knife. Every inch he slid in – slid out, was a new torture. The ragged tears the knife had left were being ripped apart farther, and Katniss was being torn in two by Cato's new torture device, his own personal knife of human flesh.

It would be over after this, she hoped. Surly he was tired of playing with her, he would slit her throat, and he claimed victor. He could go home, and pretend this never happened. He would be safe forever, rich, and famous for the rest of his life, with his family.

Katniss thought of Prim, was her little sister watching this, unable to tear her eyes from the screen as her older sibling was tortured to death, surly their mother had taken her from the television. Gale, would he be watching, or would he be in the mines, right now? She hoped for the later.

She wished that this had been different, that she would be coming home, instead of Cato. She wished that it was her torturing him, rather then he she. She wished more than anything that Peeta was still alive, that he hadn't fallen into the pit of mutts, fallen to his death, his long miserable death. No matter how bad Katniss felt, Peeta had definitely felt worse. But that didn't matter any longer, Katniss was going to die, one way or the other, and it was going to happen as soon as Cato was done using her broken body as a pleasure toy. She was alone, and dead, actually, worse than dead, with no way out. Katniss was hopeless, helpless, and painfully utilized. The girl on fire was turning into a pile of ashes, and she hated it. She didn't want to die, she wanted to go home, and forget about this. She wanted her sister, her friend. She wanted to be in the woods, her woods. Please, she silently prayed, just take me home. And as if somebody had heard her pleas, there it was: Hope.

Cato had been so caught up in his actions; Katniss had been too traumatized by the fire between her legs. Neither of them had noticed that Cato's knife, still bloodied from Katniss's vaginal bloods, had fallen from his belt, onto the cornucopia floor.

Reaching it would be almost impossible; being it was a yard away. She would have to push herself forward, stretching, to grab it. She would have to force Cato deeper into her, a motion that she feared would leave her permanently damaged. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but it was also the last chance she had to survive.

With one last glass shattering shriek, she pushed herself forward onto Cato, feeling him so far inside her; it was as if his penis had ruptured her spleen. It was nauseating, and vomit threatened to spew, but she choked it down.

Cato had released himself into her, a warm sensation that stung her cuts. He hardly had time to register what was happening, before she drove the knife into the back of his neck, it jutting sickeningly out through the front of his windpipe. His wide eyes locked onto mine, shining with fear as he uselessly attempted to draw in air. It took less than a minute for him to die, for his cannon to sound; he was still hard inside her, and she thought once again that she might puke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventy-forth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen! I give you- the female tribute of District Twelve!"

And so she lay there, bloody, broken, used, and on display for all of Panem to see.**  
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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**Oh, and I do not own the Hunger Games. Ms. Collins does. **


	3. Sorry

Hey guys, I can't even begin to apologize for not updating in years?! Well, I just went through a very hard thing. On March 12, 2013. I got a phone call telling me the person I loved more than anything in this world, my first love, the person I'd spent the past year of my life with, my best friend, my favorite person, the person I talked to 24/7, the person I gave my virginity to, the person I wanted to spend my entire life with had passed away in a car crash that involved him and two of my other best friends: his sister, and our friend. His sister and our friend survived with bad injuries. My boyfriend, Charles, didn't get a chance. They ran off the road into a field, and hit a tree, kept going, and hit another tree. His seat-belt caused his neck to snap. This is the hardest thing I could ever experience, and life just isn't the same. It's not fair, and it's killing me. I'm agnostic, and he was an atheist. So I just hope wherever he is, he's having the best time, and that he's happy. He was the dorkiest, cutest, most perfect thing I could ever imagine. I found perfection out of imperfection in him. We loved each other more than anything. He wasn't all that close to his family, I was the closet thing to him, the one he could rely on the most. And I'm happy I was able to make him happy, and let him know I loved him more than anything, but I miss him so much. He loved reading, and loved a lot of the same books I do. He would walk down the halls playing pokemon on his gameboy. He had so many friends, and if you knew him you either loved or hated him. One time he changed all of his pokemon names to 'Will you please marry me?".. It was too cute. I love Charles with all of my heart. Sorry I kinda rambled, but the point of this is that since this has happened, I think I might try my hand at writing some more, maybe that will help. Again, I am so sorry for the no updates. I will fix that hopefully. Also, I'm sorry for exciting anyone if you thought this was an update. :/

I love you all! 3 

~Kamles


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